I Became a Plutocrat in World War I: Starting with Saving France-Chapter 777: Land Acquirer

The citizens of Metz are in the midst of a celebration.

Since the Franco-Prussian War of 1870, Metz has been under German rule for a full 46 years, and now it has finally returned to France.

People are singing and dancing, flowers are scattered everywhere in the streets, and they cheer for the entering French Army.

Yet in the city hall on Champier Island, Shire is discussing the handover with Tijani and the British Army.

(Note: Metz has three islands surrounded by rivers, namely Great Sol Island, Little Sol Island, and Champier Island)

Tijani doesn’t understand Shire’s actions, not at all, and speaks with agitation:

"We are just one step away from recovering the entire territory, General, victory is waiting for us right in front!"

"The German Army is unprepared, while we have the Armored Army and two motorized divisions, along with Fuxu and Petain’s troops behind us."

"Why don’t we attack Alsace and end all of this?"

Shire asks back, "And then? Will the war end just like that?"

Tijani froze.

Even if the entire territory is recovered, the war will not end because Germany has not surrendered.

What the capitalists want is Germany’s unconditional surrender because only then can they get huge reparations, possibly paying for England’s massive loans.

"We need to consider more long-term issues, Major General," Shire says, "including political factors."

"Politics?" Tijani looks confused, "Doesn’t our victory benefit politics?"

Shire couldn’t answer; it was to maintain an external threat.

But he had all kinds of excuses.

Tijani only cared about the Art of War and was clueless about politics.

"Of course," Shire nods, "Our soldiers have been fighting continuously for months, they need rest, and they are quite resentful of the British doing nothing. You don’t want another ’mutiny’, do you?"

Tijani slowly nods.

In the long run, it’s indeed true; after Lorraine, there’s still Alsace, and after Alsace, there’s still Germany.

Is it always going to be the French Army charging at the front while the British Army does nothing in the rear?

"Alright then!" Tijani compromises, "You’re right."

But he then asks:

"But what about Metz? You always emphasized its importance."

"The British might lose it, and then all our efforts would be wasted, and the Germans would strengthen its defenses."

"We would pay a heavier price to take it down again."

Shire smiles slightly, "Don’t worry about that, we can dismantle some of the defenses here, like certain forts that we consider threatening."

Tijani looks at Shire in astonishment, "But this will create problems for the British defenses..."

Before finishing his sentence, he stops, then shrugs, "Why not?"

If the British have trouble with their defenses, that’s their problem; what’s it got to do with the French Army?

Shire adds, "Those forts were bombed during the war."

"Of course," Tijani nods deeply, "To be precise, they were half bombed in the war, always about to collapse, so we had no choice but to demolish them."

Shire nods with satisfaction.

No one is better than Tijani, a second-generation billionaire, at finding excuses.

"Take care of these matters," Shire leaves with a word, "After the handover, retreat to the West Bank of the Meuse River, I need to go to Paris."

"Yes, General," Tijani stands up and responds.

...

Arman Manor in Paris.

Most of the time, when he has nothing to do, Arman is lying in bed, even though the sun has already reached its peak.

Of course, he is never alone in bed.

After Grevy was sent to the guillotine, feeling like he walked through the gates of hell, Arman had a large bed custom-made for himself, one that can accommodate five or six people at the same time.

Seizing the moment is the only way not to live in vain; otherwise, when his turn comes to the guillotine, he will surely regret his wasted life.

Amidst the endless pleasures on the bed, a gentle knock on the door is followed by the butler’s trembling voice, "Sir, I think you should..."

"Get lost!" Arman grabs the empty wine glass by the bed and throws it out.

The shattering glass scares the butler, rendering him speechless for a while.

But finally, he musters the courage, "Sir, it’s General Shire, he wants to talk to you..."

"No one is allowed, let him get lost!" The voice mix sleepy and drunken tones.

But the next second, he suddenly awakens, raising his head swiftly from the seductive embrace, "What? Who did you say?"

The butler responds, "It’s General Shire, sir, he is waiting for you in the living room!"

Arman jumps up from the bed as if pricked by a needle. As he rapidly dresses, he shouts, "Wait a minute, I’m coming right away, serve the general a cup of coffee!"

"Yes, sir!"

...

In the luxuriously decorated living room, Shire has just taken a sip of coffee when Arman hurries in, his clothes disheveled, long hair tangled like a nest of weeds.

Despite this, he still strives to maintain composure, bowing elegantly to Shire, "It’s an honor to meet you, General!"

Shire’s appearance surprises Arman.

Given Shire’s status, he shouldn’t be associating with the right-wing Royalist Party, as it might be misconstrued as him attempting to overthrow the republic and become emperor.

But the next second Arman comprehends, as Shire is not particularly concerned about such issues now.

He has control over the military, the second bureau, the media, and even a majority in parliament.

Who dares to challenge Shire?

Arman tries to relax himself, walking to the wine cabinet to pour a glass of red wine, politely asking Shire, "Care for a glass, General?"

"No," Shire nods towards the coffee on the table, "I’ll stick with this!"

Holding his wine, Arman sits opposite Shire, raising his glass, "I should congratulate you, General, you’ve successfully defeated your foe in less than two years, it’s nothing short of a miracle!"

This is genuine admiration; no one, not even Napoleon, could achieve this.

"It’s not enough," Shire’s tone remains calm.

"What?" Arman pulls back the wine glass from his lips, looking at Shire in confusion.

"Land, Arman," Shire clarifies his intent, "France needs to possess land to ensure its safety."

Land is the foundation of everything.

Whether it is agriculture or industry or daily necessities, all are based on land.

It is seemingly ubiquitous, but once monopolized by capitalists, the consequences could be dire.

Arman seems to understand Shire’s meaning, "You want me to purchase land for you?"

"Yes," Shire nods.

The right-wing has always advocated for preserving farmland and opposing industrialization, they even provided many benefits to farmers, making them the most suitable buyers.

And having Arman as the front has another advantage: it won’t raise the suspicion of the capitalists.

"How much do you need?" Arman asks, raising the glass to his mouth.

He thought Shire just wanted to expand his own factory.

"All of it," Shire replies word by word, "Everything you can buy."

The wine Arman just drank nearly sprays out, and he coughs painfully, looking at Shire in shock.